


Not Quite The Intended Surprise

by PinkPandorafrog



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aromantic, F/M, Multi, PWP, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5290724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPandorafrog/pseuds/PinkPandorafrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy got a text from Jack saying that they had a surprise for her. She could really use a massage, but that's probably not what they have in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite The Intended Surprise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Schaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schaf/gifts).



Darcy pulled up into her driveway and shut the car off. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and eyed it, eyebrows raised. Jack had sent her a text a while ago, there it was. _We have a surprise for you_. Huh. The house didn't look any different, maybe they were treating her to a massage or something. That would be nice, after the week she'd had.

She opened and door and got out, shoving the phone back down into the pocket of her jeans. Fury always gave her wardrobe the side-eye, but he'd never actually  _said_ anything about it, which she totally took for approval. Keys in hand, she approached the front door and hesitated. She didn't  _hear_ anything, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. She tried the handle. Locked, of course, that was good. She figured that Jack and Brock were probably both inside since they didn't meet her after work, but they wouldn't neglect her security like that. Well, unless they were super distracted.

Darcy unlocked her door and pushed her way inside. It was... Dark. She reached over and slapped the lightswitch and nothing happened? That was weird. She made a face. “Okay, but if I trip over something and kill myself, I'm totally blaming you.” Nonspecific you, whoever had decided to leave the front hall lights off. Darcy sighed, making a face. The heat seemed to be on, so hopefully it was just a fuse. She should probably check the fuse box and see what was going on. No electrician would come out at this hour, and all day for the next couple of days, she'd be at work.

She toed off her flats and pulled her phone back out, turning on the light and aiming it down the hall as she went towards the kitchen. The breaker box was just outside the kitchen. Only the kitchen was... Glowing? Flickering orange...

Darcy sped up until she reached the kitchen, images of her house burning down around her filling her head. Sure she was insured, but it was her house. Her very own house, her sanctuary, her place to go to be able to get away from work.

Candles. She stopped in the entryway, hand pressed over her chest as she tried to calm the hammering of her heart in her chest. There were an unreasonable number of candles lit up all over the kitchen, she didn't even have that many. Well, she hadn't.

She glared at where Jack was standing by the counter. “Gave me a fucking heart attack, I thought my house was on fire. And why the fuck are the front lights not working?”

Jack leaned back against the counter and looked at her, his expression questioning. “Flipped the fuse off so they wouldn't spoil the mood.”

“There's a mood?” Darcy took the opportunity to look around the kitchen. There were three plates of food set on the table, as well as a bottle of wine. “What mood would that be, exactly? The mood where I'm worried about my wiring, or the mood where I'm petrified that my house is burning down?” So maybe she was being a little cranky, but seriously. Worries about electricians and her fucking house burning down weren't hot.

Hands closed around her wrists, bringing them together behind her back to be gripped in a single finger and thumb. She felt the solidness of someone's chest brushing against her shoulders, and then a low, raspy voice filled her ear. “Here we are, trying to do something nice for you.”

She couldn't stop her body from responding to that, a hot jolt twisting through her belly. “Next time lead with this.”

“After all the trouble we went through?” His other hand came around her, a warm weight against her chest, just below the base of her throat.

“If you'd led with this, I wouldn't have gone through the panic about my electricity and a fucking fire burning my house down.” She was stuck on that a little. Like... That had really actually scared her.

“It says something about your life that you saw this and your first thought was that your house was burning down,” Jack said. He pushed away from the counter and moved slowly across the kitchen towards her.

“Yeah it fucking does.” Brock was right behind her, but Darcy still had a little bit of room to tilt her head back and look up at Jack as he came to a stop right in front of her. “I don't know if you've been paying attention, but my life tends to be a little more high adrenaline than candlelit.” Especially now that they'd made themselves a regular feature in her life.

Jack's gray eyes, dark steel in the flickering shadows, looked over her head for a second at the man behind her before dropping to her face. “How about we make it up to you?” His hand came up, his fingertips trailing back along her cheekbone until he was brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Good idea,” came from behind her. “You probably need to relax before you eat anyway.” Brock was pressing her wrists lightly against the small of her back, his grip just enough to keep her secure and not actually hurt.

“Is this where the massage comes in?” Somehow she doubted it, but Darcy could really use that massage. Of course, what they  _were_ going to do would probably involve endorphins and things, so maybe just as good.

Sure enough, Brock nudged her fall of hair out of the way with his nose and nipped at the side of her neck where skin rose up out of the collar of her sweater. His stubble rasped deliciously sharp against her. “Who said anything about a massage?”

She tilted her head to the side to give him more room. “Jack mentioned a surprise. Mostly wishful thinking on my part, 'cause a massage would be so fucking awesome right now.”

“What about this?” His lips moved against her neck as he spoke, the words feathering out over her skin.

“Feels nice, not exactly a surprise.” No, as soon as Jack had texted her she'd pretty much assumed that this would be happening at some point. Something like it, anyway.

“I think he means this.” Jack gestured over his shoulder. He was close enough that his broad shoulders were blocking Darcy's view of the table, not that she really minded.

“Depends. What is it?” Being a smartass was probably better than being cranky. “Is it gonna be good cold?”

Another nip at the side of her neck, a little sharper this time, making Darcy gasp. “You have a microwave.” Brock sounded amused. He hadn't answered the first question.

Which, of course, made her a little curious. In the flickering shadowed light she'd been able to see her normal white plates, but what was on them had been reduced to indistinguishable food-shaped blobs. “What are we eating, though?”

“You.” Jack's lips twisted up into a smirk.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Okay, that was just b- _ad_!” Because Jack had taken ahold of the edges of her sweater and pulled it abruptly down her arms. It wasn't going to go anywhere, not with the hold Brock had on her wrists, but now all that stood between her skin and the intensity of his eyes was her t-shirt.

“Oh no,” she said, recognizing the look in his eyes. She couldn't exactly shake her head with Brock's mouth moving against the skin at the side of her neck. “I know that look.” She knew exactly what that look was. It usually heralded the destruction of clothing.

He reached down along his leg and when he came back up there was a knife in his hand. The flat side of the tip rested just below where Brock's hand was heavy against her chest. It trailed gently over the purple fabric of her t-shirt, and Darcy couldn't help but stare as it went down, down. She _knew_ Jack wouldn't cut her, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. But still there was a knife moving over her shirt, and it made her knees a little weak. “Okay, just... If you cut up my bra, I'm gonna be pissed.” Yeah, her voice was a little breathless.

He was grinning, an expression she identified as _predatory_. She couldn't see past her boobs, but she could feel it sliding down over her stomach, down onto her jeans. When he reached the hem of her shirt, the knife slide up underneath and lifted until it pulled the shirt away from her body. It split the fabric as easily as a hot knife through butter, and she watched the slow destruction of her clothing as he moved it slowly back up.

Brock moved his hand out of the way, resting it against her hip. Whisper soft the knife sliced through her collar, and she let out a long breath of air when Jack moved it away and tucked it back into its sheath. Her bra was completely untouched, of course it was. Jack was good with a knife.

His large hands came up to rest over her breasts, fingers curling around the sides, as he bent down to lower his head towards her chest. Lips sealed over the soft flesh just above her bra cup and he drew it into his mouth. Darcy's eyes fluttered shut. She let the last of her tension go, drawn away by the heat of their mouths moving against her skin. Frissons of pleasure moved through her body, and she let her shoulders relax back against Brock's solid chest. They were probably going to leave marks, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Jack shifted his palm against her, the calluses on his hand catching a little against her satiny pink bra. The fabric shifted over her nipple, and she hummed in approval. After just a second his long fingers hooked over her bra cup and he pulled out down until her breast popped free. His mouth started moving, a lingering path of velvet heat that would leave a line of bruises along her breath until he paused just above the rosy peak. Brock's hold on her wrists had her back slightly arched towards the man in front of her, and she moved up against him, trying to get him to move down a little more.

Darcy could feel the puffs of air from his silent chuckle against her skin before his lips caught over the inner curve of her breast. “You're a fucking tease, Jack.” Her words came out somewhere between a moan and a sigh.

Brock gripped her wrists a little tighter, pushing to arch her back even more. “I thought you said eatin' you was a bad idea.” His breath stirred the hair at the back of her neck, making a shiver crawl up her spine.

“Not what I- _oh!_ ” Her words bit off in a gasp as Jack's mouth fastened over her nipple, giving her just the edge of his teeth. A jolt of heat twisted through her.

Every time he drew the pebbled flesh deep into his mouth, she couldn't help but shift a little until she was writhing between them, unable to keep still. The next time she felt his teeth she sucked in a sharp gasp.

Her fingers were clenching behind her, she wanted to hold onto something. “Let me go,” she moaned. “I want to touch.”

“Nope.” Brock's lips moved against the shell of her ear, his sharp stubble scratching against the delicate outer curve. “That's what you get for being mouthy.”

Darcy pulled against him but his grip was too strong. If she really wanted to get away, she could. But that wasn't part of the game. They liked it when she struggled against them.

Jack released her nipple and gave it a final nip that made her gasp again before his mouth was moving down, following the exact path his knife had made down over the center of her stomach. He mouthed at the upper part of her navel, his hands coming to the waist of her jeans. In no time he had the button and fly undone and was pulling them and the panties underneath down over her hips, letting them drop to the floor. She shuffled her feet, getting rid of the clothes and pushing them a little bit away.

Brock's foot pushed against her calf. “Spread your legs, babe. Wider.” She moved her legs until they were a little more than shoulder-width apart. His hand smoothed down over her ass, fingertips trailing along the cleft before they slid through the slick heat that had gathered between her legs. “I fucking love this,” he murmured into her ear. “Love how wet you get for us.”

Two thick fingers slid up into her cunt with one sharp thrust. “Oh god!” Her fingernails dug into her palms as she bucked against Brock's hand. He dragged his digits slowly in and out, withdrawing almost all the way before pushing them back up until his knuckles pressed into her.

Jack's hands slid up the front of her thighs until his fingers tickled at the crease where her legs met her body. His thumbs gently spread her labia, and the first flick of his tongue against her clit had her moaning again. His tongue danced against her until she was moaning almost continuously, tugging futilely against Brock's hand as her hips rocked forward. Around and around, each sweep against the sensitive bead of nerves coiled the hazy line of her pleasure tighter and tighter. She gasped, half-formed pleas of both of their names tumbling from her lips. The world seemed to narrow in tighter and tighter around her until it shattered out in a wave of warmth that spread through her.

Jack eased away from her as she came down from her high, and Brock's fingers slipped free. They let her catch her breath. “Okay,” she said as she opened her eyes, her voice suddenly seeming loud in the dimly lit kitchen. “I'm good. What's for dinner?”

There was a noise almost like a growl from behind her, she could feel Brock's chest vibrating against her back. His hand was on her hip again, pressure guiding her to walk over to the table. As she got close she could see that it looked like chicken, but she didn't have much time to look before he slid the closest plate out of the way and then pushed her down against the wooden tabletop. He kicked her feet apart a little, pushing her wrists firmly against her back. “We're not nearly done with you. Ass up,” he demanded, sending a jolt of heat through her.

Darcy arched her back as much as she could, and in just a second she felt the wide head of his cock sliding against her hot center. His sudden thrust into her still-slick pussy made her yell. “Fuck!”

“You got it.” He set an almost brutal pace, his pelvis slapping audibly against her ass as he fucked into her. Her hips pushed against the edge of the table with each sharp thrust. She'd probably have a mark from that too, but any pain she might have felt was turned into pure sensation as he drove against the sensitive nerve endings at the entrance to her cunt.

His fingers bit into her hip and her wrists. The split fabric of her shirt had her sliding across the table every time he surged into her. His breath was coming in harsh bursts, every so often punctuated by a low groan.

His hand fell away from her hip, glancing over the side of her ass until she cried out, clenching around him. He did it again, and when she clenched down around him she could feel his rhythm start to stutter. The next time she tightened her pussy around him, a gritted, “Fuck,” came out, and he stilled deep inside her as he twitched with release.

Brock pulled away almost immediately, finally releasing his hold on her wrists. She let her hands come to rest on the table beside her head, but in just a second a pair of hands were on her hips again, pulling her back and turning her around.

Jack was in front of her now, his eyes dark heat as he pulled her sweater from where it had bunched around her forearms. He pushed her against the table again, this time on her back. Her legs came up to wrap around his hips. One hand rested against her pubic bone, the other gripped his cock as he lined himself up. She gripped at his arm as he pushed slowly inside, a stark contrast to how Brock had entered her.

“Touch yourself,” he told her, reaching up to pull the two halves of her shirt apart. He pulled the other bra cup down, eyes locked on her breasts as they moved when he rocked into her.

Darcy dropped one hand down, two fingers settling to rub a quick circle against her clit. Her eyes fell shut again as he picked up speed, rocking into her in time to her own movements. One of Jack's hands settled against her hip to keep her in place, the other rested against her breast again. Only this time instead of the wide brush of his palm, his fingers closed down over her nipple, pinching it down to just the right edge of pain.

When he twisted a little she cried out again. She was unable to keep still, using her feet locked together behind him for leverage to move back against him. Her head rolled back and forth over the table as her pleasure grew again.

She was so close, the next time he twisted her nipple she came with a long cry. Jack wasn't too far behind her, stiffening deep inside her pussy, his fingers pushing into her hip.

His hands slipped behind her back, pulling her up against him. “There. Now I think we're all done.”

Darcy made a face. “Yeah, but I'm not eating off this table until it's been cleaned. Plus who knows how long dinner's actually been sitting there. Maybe...” She closed her eyes, snuggling into his bare shoulder. Apparently he'd taken off all his clothes at some point. “Maybe we should get takeout.”

She heard Brock chuckle from further into the kitchen. “I'll call for Chinese.” He didn't sound particularly upset about the dinner they'd laid out not being eaten. “It really didn't taste too good anyway.”

 


End file.
